Raindrops
by AngelFires
Summary: A chance encounter has Jack opening up to someone, who was a stranger only hours before. (Modern/Human AU, Oneshot Part 1)


**Raindrops**

 **A chance encounter has Jack opening up to someone, who was a stranger only hours before.**

The rainstorm had come on suddenly, starting out as a light drizzle and a few minutes later pouring down in buckets. Big fat droplets splashed against the pavements, creating puddles in the cracks and in the gutter. The wind was fortunately nonexistent, but with his luck it wouldn't take long.

Jack stood under the archway of an apartment building, leaning against the wall, hood up, hands in his front pocket. The rain was like a veil, obscuring the world from reality. He could just make out the neon lights from the diner across the street and the words _Snuggly Duckling_ flashing in the dusk. Warm yellow light spilled from the windows and he supposed he could fork over a couple dollars for some coffee and a dry place to wait out the rain.

He looked left and right, before making a dash across the street, avoiding the larger puddles. The bell at the door dinged when he entered and it was like taking a step back in time. Red vinyl booths lined the front windows and red topped barstools ran along the counter. The floor was black and white checkered tile and the walls were adorned with old posters, old fashioned ads and a few tacky neon signs. Stretched across the top of the bar was the menu and directly behind the counter he saw a soda fountain and an ice cream machine. An archway off to the side lead back into the kitchen.

The joint only had a few customers; a group in a booth further down on his left and a couple singles at the bar. Jack chose a booth midway down the right side of the diner and sat down. He pulled his hood back and tugged at his hair so it didn't lie flat on his head. He glanced at his reflection in the window, but he couldn't make out much of his appearance.

He heard the squeak of sneakers as the waitress walked towards him and looked up.

It was _her_. The girl from last week. The street performer.

At least that's what he'd assumed she was. The first time he'd seen her she'd been sitting at the fountain in the square, playing guitar and singing. It had been a sweet song with a sweet melody, not one he'd known. He'd soon find out she'd written it herself.

The sun had shown down on her in a magical kind of way and her long, blonde hair had seemed to be glowing. She'd had a radiance about her that he'd never seen in anyone else and the people had been drawn to her like a magnet. And that's how Jack had found himself standing in the crowd, watching her sing. He couldn't deny, she was a beauty to behold with large green eyes, a sweet smile and long golden hair adorned with colorful flowers. She'd been barefoot and Jack had wondered if she was some kind of hippie just passing through town.

When her song had ended, she'd smiled radiantly at the crowd, blushing lightly at the applause. People had moved forward to toss money into her guitar case and Jack had fingered the wallet in his pocket. In truth he didn't really have money to spare, but seeing her shoeless and dressed in a simple purple dress, he'd decided, she needed it more than him.

She'd smiled brightly at the children and laughed at their antics. Even her laugh was musical.

He'd tossed in a couple quarters and, without really meaning to, had caught her gaze. Her eyes really had been mesmerizing and something had changed in her smile just then, but he hadn't been able to place what it was. Not wanting to stand there like an idiot staring at her, he'd simply nodded and left. A part of him had felt her eyes on him as he'd walked away, but the other part had told him he was being ridiculous.

He was used to girls and women staring at him when he walked by and it really wasn't a mystery as to why. He knew, he was good-looking, and yes, he used it to his advantage many a time, but often it seemed to him that that was all women saw in him. He was just the "hot hookup" from last week. Nameless. Their interest in him never delved below the surface. Everything they asked, everything they found out was superficial and it didn't define him. But somehow they thought it did. As soon as they found out he didn't have a college degree and wasn't financially stable, they discarded him to the pile of society's misfits. A nobody. Invisible.

They didn't ask, how he had ended up at that point in his life. They didn't know about his past, how it had nearly destroyed him. They had no idea about the struggles he'd gone through to finally get where he was. They had no idea that where he was now was a thousand times better than where he'd been a year ago. They didn't know, because they didn't care. Then again, he was a nobody, so why should they?

The squeaking stopped, when the girl reached his table. "What can I," she started and looked up from her notepad. Her green eyes widened and she paused a fraction too long for it to go unnoticed, "…get you?"

"Just a coffee," he replied, a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth.

She nodded. "Okay." Her expression remained a mixture of surprise and disbelief and recognition. She shook her head and looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry, you just seem familiar."

"Do I?" He asked, amused.

She paused for a second, taking in his expression, his smirk, the mischievous, amused glint in his brown eyes. "That wasn't a line or anything," she said quickly, her cheeks reddening. "I just feel like I've seen you before. Not here. In this diner, I mean. But around. Somewhere," she trailed off and laughed nervously. "I'll get you your coffee."

Jack leaned back in the booth, working his jaw as he tried to keep his grin from widening. She spun around quickly and disappeared around the counter. It would be a lie if he said, he didn't appreciate her figure as she walked away. The uniform was a yellow dress, cut around mid thigh and cinched at the waist. Her legs were slim and smooth and a fleeting thought of what it must feel like to touch them crossed his mind, before he violently shoved it deep down. She probably got enough creeps in here, trying to flirt with her. For obvious reasons, he might add, but he didn't need to become a part of that unwanted attention.

She reappeared a few moments later, tray in hand, sneakers squeaking, and placed a saucer in front of him, on which was a mug of steaming coffee, two creamers and a sparkling, metal tea spoon. "Sugar's in the dispenser by the window."

"Thanks, Squeaky," he said before he could stop himself. He froze and immediately apologized. "I'm sorry," he said and looked up at her, face heating up. "That just slipped out."

But she smiled. "Don't worry, I've been called worse," she said, her voice laced in humor.

"Well, I certainly hope not."

"You'd be surprised."

Jack ran a hand through his hair and laughed awkwardly, still mortified by letting the stupid nickname slip out. "Look I'm—"

"You can call me 'Zel'," she said. "Unless you prefer Squeaky," she added with a teasing smile.

His eyes flitted to her name tag, where Z-E-L stood out in white lettering against the brown card. He nodded, forcing down his embarrassment. "Zel it is."

"So, what should I call you?" She asked. "Or should I come up with a suitable nickname?"

"Jack," he said, chuckling. "You can call me 'Jack'."

"Okay, _Jack_ ," she replied, emphasizing on his name. "Sorry for asking, but what brings you here to the Snuggly Duckling? We don't get a lot of new faces around here."

Her eyes were narrowed, as if she were inspecting his every movement. He wasn't going to lie, it was a bit unnerving. It was like she knew something he didn't know she knew and she was just waiting for him to slip up.

"The rain?" He responded slowly.

Her eyes flicked towards the window, where he could hear it beating against the glass. "Hm."

"Not the answer you were expecting." It wasn't a question.

She pressed her lips together. "I swear, I've seen you before."

"You think, I'm stalking you?" He asked, unable to hide his grin.

" _No_ ," she said unconvincingly. "I just—"

"Hey Zel!" A guttural voice called. "How about a refill?"

"Coming!" She called back and looked back at him, pointing a finger. "This isn't over. Don't go anywhere."

"What, are you going to tie me to a chair?" He quipped.

"Don't tempt me," she smirked and turned to accommodate the other customers.

Jack raised his eyebrows and inhaled deeply. _Damn_. He exhaled forcefully, his cheeks puffing out. He probably should tell her where she'd seen him, he thought, while another more mischievous part of his brain wanted to keep the gag going just a bit longer.

He looked over to where she stood at the other end of the diner, coffee pot in hand, speaking amicably with the men in the booth. They were big guys, probably construction workers, and she seemed to know them quite well, what with how comfortable she looked. Jack guessed they were regulars.

She glanced over at him and he immediately looked down to his coffee. He'd completely forgotten about it. He stirred in one creamer and a teaspoon of sugar and waited for the squeak of her sneakers to come nearer.

Soon enough there it was. He glanced over the table, trying to get a glimpse of the shoes that could possibly make so much noise. They were light purple Converse, old and worn down, color fading, but the canvas material was decorated with painted flowers and vines.

"Cool sneakers," he commented, when she reached his table again.

She glanced down quickly, surprised by his comment. "Oh, thanks. I painted them myself."

Jack leaned over the edge of the table again to get a better look, his interest having peaked at that new information. "That's actually really cool. How does it not wash off?"

"It's acrylic paint and I sprayed them with hairspray. But I don't know how they'll hold out against the rain," she admitted. "Didn't think it would rain today. Especially not like this," she said, gesturing to the outside.

Jack nodded, slowly looking from the window back to her. Her forehead was set in a frown and she was biting her lip, probably thinking of a way to save her shoes.

"You could just go barefoot," he suggested.

She blinked and looked over at him. "Hm?"

"So you don't ruin your shoes," he explained. "Just go barefoot. It would be a shame if you ruined them," he said honestly.

She smiled softly and it reminded him of the way she'd looked at him the previous Saturday.

He cleared his throat. "By the way, it was the town square on Saturday. You were performing."

Recognition lit up her face. "That's right! You were the guy with grease on his face."

Jack nearly choked on his coffee. " _What_?" He spluttered.

She giggled. "You had a bit of grease on your forehead."

Jack blinked rapidly and looked straight ahead, embarrassment overtaking him once again. He wasn't one to get embarrassed easily or even nervous, but this girl had managed to fluster him more than once in the span of ten minutes.

"So…what do you do?" She asked, not even trying to hide her amusement.

"I'm, uh," he began, mustering the courage to even look at her. His face was on fire. "I'm an auto-mechanic."

She leaned against the seat opposite him, hugging the tray to her chest. "Makes sense. Where do you work?"

"You gonna start stalking me?" He asked jokingly, smirking.

Her eyes widened and her face flushed. "N-no. Of course not. I was just…wondering." She looked down for a second. "Sorry about that. You know, the whole stalking thing. I'm a bit jumpy, I guess, when it come to guys."

Jack studied her for a moment. "How come?"

She shrugged, her demeanor becoming nervous. "You hear things. Thugs and…ruffians…"

"Do people still say ruffians?" Jack asked, a laugh escaping him despite himself.

She bit her lip and shrugged, her gaze returning to the window.

Jack could tell they'd possibly hit a sore subject. His heart thudded loudly against his ribcage in the silence that followed. "Well, I'm not a stalker," he said, holding his hands up. "I know that's exactly what a stalker would say, but believe me."

Relief washed over him when he saw the smile creeping its way back onto her face. "Thanks for the reassurance."

"Thanks for the coffee," he replied, sharing her smile.

A silence followed, but it wasn't awkward or nervous. It was one of those silences where you want to say something or ask something, but you don't know how, and the other person is hyperaware of that fact. Zel remained where she was and looked at him expectantly, her eyes encouraging him.

"How does someone like you end up somewhere like this?" He asked finally, because he didn't understand it. Maybe it wasn't his business and obviously he didn't know her, but she seemed nice and genuine and although she got flustered easily, she had had her moments of quick wit. She had the voice worthy of a record deal and the looks worthy of a modeling contract, so how in the world had she ended up working in the Snuggly Duckling, a rundown diner on the outskirts of downtown?

"Someone like me?"

Jack pressed his lips together. He couldn't explain what he meant without turning beat red again. "What I mean is, you don't really seem like the," he trailed off, before he ended up sounding like a jackass, no pun intended. "I guess, I'm just wondering, how you ended up here?"

"Working in this diner?" She asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. "For starters."

"It's a bit of a long story," she admitted and laughed nervously.

"Zel!" A man's voice called from the kitchen. "I need you in here!"

"Well, I've got to get back to work." She sounded reluctant. "Holler if you need anything. It's what everyone else does around her," she mumbled and pushed her hip off the seat.

"When's your shift over?" He asked, before he could think it over.

"In about thirty minutes." She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "Why?"

He worked his jaw for a second, debating whether he should just brush off the question, ultimately deciding against that. "If I invite you for a cup of coffee, would you tell it to me?" He knew he might be treading on thin ice, but there was something about her that pulled him in and he wanted to know more.

"It?"

"Your story."

"For a cup of coffee?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's how much my life story is worth to you?"

Jack leaned back in his seat, grinning sheepishly. "What else you got on the menu?"

She laughed. "Come on, Jack. You gotta make it worth my while." She looked at him pointedly and he knew what she wanted. In all honesty it was only fair. A story for a story.

He held her gaze, hoping she'd back down, but the fiery look in her eyes told him she wouldn't. He swallowed and looked down, slowly nodding. "Okay. Fine."

"Okay, fine, what?" She prodded.

He looked up and found himself staring at the mischievous grin on her lips. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."

"Over coffee," she added.

He couldn't suppress his smile. "Over coffee," he confirmed.

"Deal," she said simply and stuck out a hand.

"Bit formal," he commented.

"It's not a promise until you shake on it," she said.

"You mean it's not a deal until you shake on it."

"Same difference."

"ZEL!"

"Coming!" She called back, then wrapped her knuckles against the table top. "Duty calls."

"You're boss seems a bit…bossy," he commented. "And french."

She laughed. "Yeah, he is," she admitted and then as an afterthought added, "but he's quite agreeable, when you do what he says, which I'm currently _not_ doing thanks to you."

"Ha-ho, give the customer the blame!" Jack quipped. "Is that how you play around here?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "You're distracting me!"

He grinned. "Well, that's your fault, isn't it."

" _My fault_?!"

"You're allowing yourself to be distracted by me."

"Allowing myself," she repeated dryly.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a boyish grin. "Because you _want_ to be distracted by me. Simple psychology, really."

"Or maybe, you're just trying _everything_ you can to keep my attention, because _you_ enjoy talking to _me_. You're the one that invited me for coffee after all."

Jack opened his mouth to reply when he realized he didn't have a response. One, because her statement was completely valid and two, the self-satisfied smirk on her lips was looking irresistible. He glanced down momentarily to break eye contact. He couldn't contain his grin. She was fun.

"ZEL!"

She jumped so violently the tray fell from her grip and clattered to the floor.

"What in God's name are you doing out here? I've called you three times already!" A short, plump man stormed out of the kitchen, cheeks red and black mustache curling. He was wearing a white chefs uniform with a red bow and had a ridiculous chefs hat on his head. Jack suspecte dhe wore it to make him look taller. His eyes narrowed in on Zel and then on Jack, who gulped. This did not look like a man to mess with. "I do not pay you to _flirt_ , missy. I pay you to _serve_."

"I wasn't…flirting," Zel protested and picked up the tray off the floor.

"Too bad," Jack mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

She refused to look at him, but he knew she'd heard him by the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth parted.

"I've got four orders that need to be brought out immediately and there are plenty of dishes to clean."

"Okay," Zel replied and faced her boss with squared shoulders. "But would you hand me the coffee pot first? This customer requested a fresh cup." He hadn't.

The man's mouth pursed, but he did as Zel requested. Zel turned back to Jack and he could almost see her biting her tongue to stop herself from smiling too widely. She sauntered over to his table and pretended to pour the coffee into his mug. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin, finding the scolding all too amusing. He refused to make eye contact with her, knowing that if he did they'd both lose it and then Zel might actually be out of job, which he didn't want on his record.

She pulled back and he could sense her eyes on him, but he refused to look up. "Anything else?"

"Nm," he mumbled and shook his head, a laugh shaking his shoulders. He focused solely on his coffee until her squeaky sneakers were out of ear shot, but then another presence replaced hers and he felt his blood run just a few degrees colder.

"You watch yourself," a nasally voice warned him.

Jack looked up and decided this man was constantly stressed out. His face was round and red, bordering on purple. His eyes bulged as did his nose and Jack seriously hope people didn't find black hairs in their food from that outrageous mustache.

"There a problem? _Louis_ ," he added upon seeing the man's name tag.

"Zel's got another half of hour of work. I'd appreciate if you didn't distract her or I'll have you kicked out."

"Do you treat all your customers with such kindness?" Jack asked, sarcasm lacing every word.

"One more word," the man threatened, holding up a finger.

If it had been any other diner, Jack would have just stood up and left, but he couldn't leave. Not now. Not when she was right there.

He mimicked zipping his lips and with a last glare the man finally left.

He sighed and focused his attention on the outside. The rain hadn't ceased even a little. He slid over on the bench and leaned his forehead against the window. It was cool against his skin and the sound of the rain beating against the glass was rhythmic and comforting.

He knew he shouldn't trouble himself over a man like that. He was probably just deprived of womanly comfort and needed to let out his frustrations elsewhere. And yet for some reason it still it bothered him. It was the same thing over and over again. Someone was judging him massively before even giving him a chance to prove himself. Not even that. They didn't even give him the chance to properly introduce himself. He'd simply been written off as trouble and that had been the end of it.

He didn't have a clean slate and he wasn't going to deny, he'd been a troubled teen. Even a troubled adult. But who wasn't? Everyone had problems. That's just the way things were, but why did everyone seem to label him as 'too much trouble', when they didn't even know him? Why did the world seem to be against him? What had he done to deserve this?

Or maybe he was just feeling sorry for himself. Maybe everyone felt this way…

The pitter-patter of the rain droned on and mixed with the soft rock music coming out of the speaker system. Jack slowly closed his eyes, listening to the soft hum, trying to forget where he was and who he was. He wondered if the 50's had been a simpler time for people. Maybe he would have felt more at ease there. Or at least a bigger sense of belonging. He'd wear black jeans and a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket. He'd ride around on his motorcycle and get vanilla milkshakes with a pretty blonde with big green eyes.

Wouldn't that be nice, he thought to himself sarcastically, to have a perfect little ideal life with no problems, no worries and no nightmares to keep me up at night.

"You hungry?"

His eyes shot open.

Zel sat across from him, green eyes twinkling.

He blinked. Were thirty minutes over already? Had he fallen asleep? "What?" And that's when he noticed the two bowls of soup on the table.

"I asked if you were hungry," she said, smiling. "Soup of the day."

He sat up straighter, still a bit dazed. "You brought me soup," he said dumbly, because he had currently lost control over his mouth.

"I can take it back to the kitchen if you don't want it," she said quickly. "I just thought you might hungry."

"No, no! I mean, yeah, thank you. Sorry," he said sheepishly and shook his head. "I zoned out for a bit."

"Long day?"

"Long life."

"I know the feeling," she said sympathetically. "Bread?"

"Thanks." He took a slice from the basket she'd offered and stirred the soup with a spoon. It was light brown and creamy with hazelnuts and some green leaves on the top. Parsley? Basil? Who knew.

"It's hazelnut soup. Homemade recipe," she added quickly.

"Your recipe?" He asked and tried it.

She faltered. "N-no. My mother's."

"It's good. Really good."

She smiled brightly. "Glad you like it. I suggested the recipe to Louis and surprisingly he liked it and added it to the menu."

"Although, I must say," he began and she looked up almost nervous, "we agreed on coffee, not soup."

She scoffed and nudged him with her foot under the table. "It's free food. Don't complain."

He paused. "Free?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile and dipped a chunk of bread in her soup.

"Are you trying to bribe me or something?" He asked jokingly.

"Hey, we already made a deal, so whether I pay for your soup or not, you owe me your story."

"But first, you owe me yours," he replied.

She nodded. "Okay, then I guess I should start by telling you my real name."

He frowned at her. "Zel's not your name?"

She shook her head. "It's just a nickname. I don't use my real name often, because it distracts people."

"Okay," Jack trailed off, wondering how weird her name could possibly be.

"My real name's Rapunzel."

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, wondering if she was serious. _Rapunzel_? As in the fairytale? "Okay…"

"You don't believe me?"

Jack shifted in his seat, contemplating her expression. Her posture was very relaxed and her chin was resting in the palm of her hand, her fingers tapping lightly against her cheek. As genuine as she seemed, Jack had experience with flakes and they could put on quite a show for a while.

"I'm going to have to see some form of identification."

She laughed and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "So why don't you trust me, _officer_?"

"Have you given me a reason to trust you?"

She held his gaze and subconsciously dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. A subconscious movement, but it stirred something up inside of Jack and he had to tear his gaze away and shift somewhat uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fine," she said and dug around in her bag, before producing a lilac wallet. She handed him her ID. "Don't laugh."

He looked at her weirdly. He doubted her name was that laughable, but then he read it off the ID-card and he had to bite his tongue. _Rapunzel Fitzherbert_. Poor girl. What kind of parents gave their kid a name like that. Both names were definitely unorthodox, but neither were terrible names. Rapunzel was actually kind of cute. But _Rapunzel Fitzherbert_? That was an atrocity and he fully understood, why the blonde went by Zel.

"I know you're trying not to laugh."

"I'm not," he lied. "It's, uh…"

"Eccentric?"

His eyes flashed up to her.

"It's what my mother would always say," she replied.

He nodded and his eyes flew over the ID-card again, taking in the perfect picture, birth place, birthday. "So, what drove your mother to name you, Rapunzel Fitzherbert?"

Her fingers drummed on the table in an erratic, nervous pattern. "How do I start explaining this?" she mumbled.

"How about from the beginning?"

She met his gaze and he recognized fear in her eyes. "You're gonna think I'm a freak after this."

He smiled. "Then I can finally welcome you to the club."

She laughed softly and took a deep breath. "My mother's last name is Gothel," she began. "I changed mine when I ran away. So she couldn't find me."

Jack tilted his head and studied her intently, fully intrigued.

"I was eighteen and just dying for my life to finally begin. My mother had been very strict my entire life. I didn't have many privileges. There was no staying out late, no hanging out with friends, and definitely no boyfriends. She said, she was just trying to protect me from the dangers of the world, but she never realized she was doing me more harm than good."

She paused for a moment to stir her soup and continued. "One day, the day before my eighteenth birthday, to be exact, a man broke into our home. I was alone that weekend, because my mother had gone to the coast to get my birthday present." She went on to say that her first wish had been to go to the city and that it had been her wish for ages, but her mother had never allowed it. They'd had a brief screaming match, which consisted solely of her mother yelling at her, and then Rapunzel had mentioned a different possibility for a birthday present. She'd asked for special paints, which her mother had gotten at the coast for her a few years before. "Anyway, like I said, she was gone and I was alone. We had a secluded home in the woods, no neighbors and bad phone service."

Jack had a sinking feeling in his stomach, his mind flashing back to earlier where she had mentioned being cautious around men.

"Flynn Rider," she said, an odd smile playing at her lips, which confused Jack. "He was a thief, running from the law, not that I'd had any idea at he time. He broke in and I knocked him out with a frying pan," she said matter-o-factly. "And tied him to a chair."

Jack eyebrows shot up. That's not what he'd been expecting at all. There were some awful stories of people being held up in their homes by fugitives. Stories of unspeakable acts, leaving physical and psychological scars. He'd never heard one where a petite eighteen year old girl knocked out a criminal with a frying pan.

"I bribed him into taking me to the city. I had only wanted to go for my birthday and to be home by the time my mother got back, but fate had other plans I guess," she said thoughtfully.

"I, uh, I think you missed a few steps," Jack said, leaning forward on his elbows. "You said you bribed him. With what exactly?"

She smiled mischievously. "He was on the run, because he'd robbed a jewelry store. I'd hid his bag of diamond rings and emerald necklaces and told him, if he ever wanted it back, he'd have to do as I say."

Jack's eyes narrowed as he thought it over. "But couldn't he have lied and overpowered you after you untied him?"

Rapunzel nodded. "He could have, yes. It could have ended very badly for me, but I was too naiv at the time to see it. I decided to trust him. Blindly. But he didn't hurt me. I mean, he did, but that was much later and in a completely different context…" She bit her lip and frowned. "He was a good man. Not in the eyes of the law. He stole and lied to survive, but with me he was honest. He was good to me."

"So, what happened?" He prodded.

"He took me to the city," she said. "I finally experienced the people and the noise and the _smell_. Car exhausts and garbage," she said with a laugh, "but also fried food and perfume that wasn't my mother's." She shuddered at the thought. "It smelled like freedom. It _felt_ like freedom. The night lights showed me a brand new world. The city never slept and the freaks came out at night. It was magical."

Jack smiled. He remembered his first few nights in the big city. Like Rapunzel, he'd been a runaway, but he'd been alone. She'd been trying to escape her overbearing mother for a weekend; he'd been trying to escape his past altogether. Only one of them succeeded. But it was in their similarities that he realized she was just like him, one of society's misfits.

"I fell in love with him in those few days," she admitted. "Again I know, I was young and naiv and I should have known better, but Eugene fell in love with me too."

"W-w-wait," Jack interrupted. "Eugene?"

Rapunzel blinked. "Oh, right. Eugene. That was his real name. His alias was Flynn Rider."

Jack nodded slowly, wondering how she'd managed to fall in love with this man in a matter of days. He was a criminal with two names and in the end he broke her heart.

"He didn't go back for the jewels," she said and Jack felt she was reading his mind. "He said, I'd made him want to turn over a new leaf, start a new life. So that's what we did. Together. We stayed in the city and built a life for ourselves. Eugene knew a guy, who made fake ID's and he made me one. I changed my name to Eugene's out of principle." Her voice softened. "We thought we'd last."

"Why didn't you?"

"Time's got tough," she said. "Money was tight. It's hard to get a good job without a college degree and neither of us had that. Eugene just wanted more." She looked down and bit her lip, her forehead creasing. "He started stealing again. He was turning back into his other self. He was always able to justify it and I let it slide. I never liked it, but I didn't do anything about it, because…I was in love with him. It was like he could no evil in my eyes. His justifications became my justifications. He was manipulating me and I didn't realize it. I don't think he realized it either. At least not at first." She trailed off and was suddenly very small, sitting across from him with her shoulders hunched, hands in her lap, gaze downcast. She had the aura of a lost child.

"You don't have to tell me anymore," Jack said. "I don't want you to dig up all these memories for my sake."

"I want to tell you," she said quickly. "It's good to talk about it. It makes it more real. It helps me accept that it happened and that I'm still here. It hurts, but it doesn't control me."

Her words spoke to Jack on a deeper level than she could realize. The difference between them was that his past still controlled him. It still influenced his future, his emotions, his relationships.

She took another sip of her soup. "Life's not a fairy tale. I think it's a miracle Eugene and I had lasted as long as we had. Things got pretty ugly towards the end, but I don't blame him for what he did. His upbringing and mine brought a toll on how we lived our lives, how we treated people and each other."

"Do you regret it?" Jack asked. "Do you regret _him_?"

She exhaled slowly and turned her head towards the window. The rain hadn't ceased its intensity. She smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, I don't. He saved me. I can't imagine what my life would be like now if he hadn't taken me with him. Yes, in the end we fell apart and it broke my heart," she said, her voice becoming quieter. "But I think, it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." She gazed at him intensely. "Don't you think?"

He looked down at the steam rising out of his soup and drummed his fingers against the bowl."I don't know," he finally admitted. "Heartbreak hurts pretty damn hard."

"Yeah," she murmured. "So you've been in love?"

He shook his head. "No. I mean, I don't think so. But heartbreak happens when you lose anyone. It doesn't necessarily have to be your significant other."

"I never really thought of it like that. I guess it's because Eugene is the only person I've ever truly lost," she said slowly.

"What about your mom?"

Rapunzel shook her head. "I didn't lose her. I left. Technically she lost me, but I don't think I was ever hers to lose. She was horrible to me and I only realized that in hindsight. I know it's wrong and I should feel a little guilty for just up and leaving her like I did, but I don't. Not anymore. I even hated her for awhile, but now I don't really feel anything." She remained pensive for a few moments, before directing her attention back at Jack. "You've lost someone close to you?"

"Lost a lot of people," he said and mirrored her previous position, watching raindrops race each other down the window pane. "Pushed most of them away myself." Rapunzel didn't say anything, but he could feel her watching him. He looked back at her and directed the conversation back to her. "How did you move on?"

She watched him for a moment, his tactic of avoiding talking of himself clearly evident, but she didn't ask why and just answered his question. She said it had been extremely difficult, but she'd just busied herself in making ends meet for herself. Not that she'd had a choice. She said that although it had been unbearable at times, she'd been glad to have something else to focus on, like surviving, rather than her breakup. She'd gotten her own apartment, ridiculously small but cheap, and found a job at the diner, because it was near where she lived and she got two free meals a day. She told him that before she'd found the job, there'd been times where she'd had to put everything towards the apartment and hadn't had food for a day or so. The money she'd earned for performing and for her paintings, every penny had gone towards the rent.

Jack couldn't imagine. He'd had some trouble in the beginning finding an apartment and a job, but he'd had enough money in his savings to sustain himself for a bit. Money had been tight for him as well, but he'd never gone hungry. The fact Rapunzel hadn't even been able to afford simple human necessities floored him.

"When I've got a free evening or afternoon, I tend to go to the main square and sell my paintings or perform. I get more money when I perform though. Most tourists don't have room for a canvas in their travel bags and I'll admit, my style isn't for everyone. But that's how I get by and now here I am," she said, "as financially stable as one with my means can get, healthy, happy…alive," she finished.

"Bit morbid," he commented.

"The truth's morbid," she answered.

He chuckled. She was right. "Still," he said. "Looking at at you now, I would have never guessed the things you've gone through."

She smiled shyly. "Appearances are deceiving."

He couldn't stop looking at her. She had an unknown strength, an unbreakable will to go on and you'd never guess it. She was small and pretty and bubbly and imagining her in a cramped apartment, hungry and cold, seemed completely out of place.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied. "It's just that a lot of people in your position would have given up. They would have turned to alcohol or drugs or crime or they would have just ended it."

"It's a harsh world. I found that out the hard way. But it's still a beautiful one, rain or shine. You never know what the future holds, or what interesting people you'll meet," she said, smiling at him knowingly. "I think everyone just needs to find something worth living for and they'll get past whatever hardship they're going through."

"You think it's that simple?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. Finding something worth living for, when you feel you've got absolutely nothing is probably one of the most difficult things there is."

Jack remained silent and twiddled his thumbs, thinking about what she'd said. The line 'when you _feel_ you've got absolutely nothing' repeated itself over and over in his head and a sense of terrible guilt washed over him.

He'd felt overwhelming loss and sorrow and guilt after _it_ had happened. In the months following, the weight had only magnified and it had been crushing him. He'd felt himself whittling away little by little until there'd been nothing left except his outer shell, lifeless and meaningless. Nothing had mattered anymore, because she was gone and he couldn't get her back and it had been all his fault. He'd pushed everyone away. First, his parents, then his friends and his girlfriend, at one point his psychiatrist, whom he'd visited involuntarily, and anyone else who'd tried to get too close. None of them had understood what he'd been feeling and it had made him feel even more alone and isolated. He realized only years later that he'd had so many people around him, willing to help him, but now it was too late to go back and apologize. He realized too late that he hadn't been the only one who'd lost someone that day. His parents had lost a daughter, and now also a son. His actions had been selfish, he knew that now and he regretted all of it. But he was too ashamed to go back, too scared they wouldn't take him back.

"Jack?"

He blinked. "What?"

She looked worried. "Are you alright?"

No. "Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes and he knew she wasn't convinced. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know."

"I'm not," he argued, and internally cringed at how unconvincing that had sounded.

Rapunzel leaned back in her seat and gave him a look, clearly unimpressed with his answer. Her bottom lip protruded in a slight pout and thoughts he shouldn't be thinking flitted briefly through his mind. He pulled his gaze away from her lips and focused back on her eyes. She arched a slender eyebrow in annoyance when he didn't say anything.

He grinned. "You're cute when you're serious."

Jack reveled in her immediate fluster. Her cheeks pinked, eyes widened, mouth parted. She really was gorgeous.

"You're avoiding the subject," she stammered and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Maybe," he muttered and stirred his soup for no reason at all.

"Fine," she huffed, her cute little pout returning. "You don't have to tell me what's bothering you, but I told you all about me, so now it's your turn." She leaned forward on her elbows and propped her her chin on her palms. "You promised."

The corner of his mouth twinged up in a smile. "You're right, I did. What do you want to know, Punzie?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Punzie?"

He leaned back in his seat and grinned. "Yeah."

She held his gaze for a moment, a pretty smile playing at her lips. "Well, aren't you creative with the nicknames," she said and applauded mockingly.

He smirked, self-satisfied.

"You said, you're a mechanic."

"I did," he replied and ate a few spoonfuls of the delicious hazelnut soup, while she continued.

"So, where do you work? I swear I'm not a stalker," she joked and held up her hands, mimicking his movements from before.

He laughed. "North's Autoshop. It's a few blocks from here."

She nodded and when he didn't say anything else she waved her hand in a gesture that meant 'well, go on'.

He chuckled. "Uh, my boss is Russian," he said, scrambling for something to say. "We call him North."

Rapunzel laughed. "It's his shop?"

Jack nodded. "But he's thinking of selling it. He wants to move back to Russia or possibly somewhere up north."

"Fitting," Rapunzel commented.

"He's tired of the heat."

"It can get a bit much," she agreed.

"It was quite an adjustment for me too, when I first moved here. I'm from Burgess," he said, memories of his old home flashing through his mind. "It's a town in Pennsylvania."

"I've never been to the East Coast," she admitted thoughtfully. "Then again, I've never really been anywhere. What's it like?"

He pondered the question for a few moments. "It's been awhile since I was there," he admitted. "But I remember the peacefulness of it. The people were relaxed and friendly. It was a very tight-knit community and everyone was a part of it."

"Do you miss it?"

The smile slid slowly off his face. "Yes."

"Why don't you go back?"

He laughed humorlessly. "I can't."

"Why not?"

He almost tried to brush off the question and ignore the subject all together, but then he remembered he'd promised to tell her everything just like she had. He sighed heavily.

"Bad memories," he said finally.

"Is that why you left?"

"Yeah."

He could feel the 'what happened' on the tip of her tongue and he mentally braced himself for it. He started organizing his thoughts and thinking about where he should start explaining, but she surprised him by asking about his past hobbies instead.

"I played a lot of baseball. In high school I was actually the main pitcher on the varsity team."

Her eyebrows raised in interest. "Did you get a scholarship?"

"Yeah," Jack said slowly. "Yeah, I was offered a couple actually."

"But you didn't go," she finished, frowning. "Why not?"

Jack's mind raced. Should he tell her? Everything was connected to the incident. To his little sister. To Flee. There wasn't any avoiding it. All his decisions after the accident were influenced by that fateful day. He couldn't keep avoiding talking about it. But how did you start talking about something like that?

"I wasn't in a good place," he said. "I had just lost someone very close to me and I couldn't function properly. My grades dropped, I quit baseball and lost my scholarship."

"That's terrible," she said softly.

"It is…And I still feel it, you know? The loss, the guilt, it's all still here. It's not as overwhelming anymore as it had been, but I still feel it."

Suddenly her hand was in his, warm and soft and delicate. She smiled sadly, but in understanding.

"Why do you feel guilty?" She asked slowly.

He focused on her hand, small in his, but reassuring. "Because it's my fault," he said and looked up at her. He expected her to pull away, to become weary, but she just looked sad. She didn't say anything, just squeezed his hand, a gesture reassuring him that she wasn't going anywhere, and waited patiently for him to continue, which he was grateful for. It was difficult to organize his thoughts, to actually say what he wanted to.

Her hand in his was a comfort, as was the cozy ambience of the diner. Soft rock music played out of the speakers, conversations flowed through the air from the other customers, which had become more numerous as dinner time came around. His whole self ached for just a bit of normalcy. Why couldn't he just be a guy on a date with a girl, getting coffee at a rustic diner? Why did things have to be so complicated?

"My…" He swallowed thickly as the memories came rushing back. "My sister died five years ago. She was nine, I was seventeen. We were ice skating on this lake in the woods that we would always ice skate on every single winter, but this particular winter, it didn't freeze over completely and we didn't know that. Experience was against us that day, we thought it was fine."

"Oh, Jack," he heard Rapunzel whisper and she enclosed his hand in both of hers. He looked up at her slowly. Her eyes glittered. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

"She fell in," he said. "I couldn't save her."

Flee had screamed. She'd called his name. He had promised her that she'd be alright, that she just needed to believe in him, that he'd save her…but he didn't. He'd been too slow, had wasted too much time.

"I always wonder if I had done it differently, if I'd done something—anything—differently, would she still be alive."

"Jack, you can't torture yourself with thoughts like that. Your sister wouldn't have wanted that," Rapunzel said.

"You don't get it."Jack shook his head and tried to pull his hand away, but Rapunzel held on tight.

"I get that you feel guilty for it, Jack. But you need to know, it's not your fault and no one can blame you for it. No one could have predicted what happened. And your sister—wherever she is now—does not blame you for it."

Jack shook his head. "I know she doesn't, but I do. And I know she wouldn't want me to, but I can't stop. I'm the older brother. I was supposed to protect her."

"Jack." His name came out in a breath. It was pleading and urgent and he listened. "Sometimes things are beyond our control no matter what we do. Sometimes things just don't make sense and there's no explanation why. Maybe there's not even a reason why. Maybe it's all just chaos. But we can't change the past. No amount of guilt or sadness is going to change anything." She squeezed his hand and he looked up. "I know you loved her and you feel guilty, but you are destroying yourself with these thoughts. You need to forgive yourself and accept what happened, because you can't change it and I don't think anyone wants you to feel like this."

There was a deep sense of understanding in her expression and security that assured him she wasn't judging him. He felt like she was looking into his soul, like she understood him even though they'd only known each other for a couple hours. He felt like she actually saw him when he was invisible to everyone else.

"I know," he said, weakly. "I'm trying. It's just hard."

She nodded and squeezed his hand again, but didn't let go. "I know."

His cheek tickled and he pulled his hand away from her to wipe the stray tear.

"Do you have a lot of friends, Jack?" She asked suddenly.

He was surprised by the question. "No, I wouldn't say so."

"So, not many people know about this." It was more a statement than a question.

He simply shook his head.

She turned and looked out the window again, a crease on her forehead. Jack could only guess what she was thinking about, but he decided not to ask. He looked down at his soup. It hadn't even eaten half, but he couldn't bring himself to eat more. His stomach was in knots.

"I'm glad you told me, you know," she said, grabbing his attention again.

"Me too." And he was. He knew it wasn't good to keep things bottled up, but usually when people found out about his past, they'd think of him as some fragile, poor soul. They'd start tiptoeing around him as if he'd break down at any moment. He didn't know why he thought Rapunzel was any different than the rest of them. Maybe it was the fact that they'd lain their demons out on the table from the start, no secrets, no surprises, just the plain, ugly truth. Or maybe it was her pretty smile that had won him over since before he even knew her name.

"Do you think we'll keep talking after tonight?" She asked and bit her lip in an almost worrying manner.

"I hope so," he admitted, unashamed.

She looked down and smiled that gorgeous smile of hers and Jack had to keep himself from staring.

The rain continued to stream down the windows and flow through the streets long into the night. The world outside the diner was cold and dark, but a lighter and happier atmosphere hovered between as they discussed anything and everything over hot coffee like they'd previously agreed. They shared a slice of warm apple pie and tried the fruit cake, though except for the two bites it remained untouched.

Rapunzel elaborated on her love for painting and the motifs she liked best. She told him of her dream to illustrate a children's book or to have her own exhibition. He asked her about the songs she sang for the crowds and she told him shyly she wrote them herself. She'd taught herself how to play guitar and she was even willing to teach him if he wanted.

He told her more about Burgess, including the park, downtown and his own home. He told her about Flee and how they'd made snow forts and snowmen in the winter, gone to the egg hunt together on Easter and helped each other with their Christmas shopping. He said that he missed playing baseball with his old friends and the feeling of throwing the perfect strike. He liked his job at North's Autoshop and was sad the jolly Russian was actually planning on leaving. He probably spoke too much about his motorcycle and the feeling of flying when he got up to 120 on the highway, but she leaned in enthusiastically and urged him to go on.

At one point she pulled him out of his seat and forced him to dance with her when a certain song he couldn't remember came on. It had been late, the diner no longer full from the dinner rush, but the remaining people had cheered them on and some had even joined. He liked the feel of her hand in his and the soft touch of her hair against his cheek. When he finally pulled her back into their booth, they sat side-by-side, his arm around her shoulders.

They spoke animatedly of their favorite music and bands, about places they wanted to travel to and things they wanted to do there. She told him about her knack for climbing and that she wanted to scale peaks in Colorado. She wanted to drive from the West Coast to the East Coast and back again just because. She told him of her favorite book _The Wanderess_ and its quotes, by which she lived. _She was a free bird: queen of the world and laughing._ She was a dreamer. A rare soul. A wildflower.

And he was a misfit. A runaway. A disaster. A troublemaker. He wasn't always looking for trouble, but it often seemed to find him. He liked the rush of adrenaline when he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. He liked the wind in his hair and had late conversations with the moon. Like her he was a free spirit, but his past weighed him down and crippled him when he thought too much about it. He was scared of water, scared of drowning, scared of losing people and scared of letting anyone too close.

But Rapunzel was everything real in a world of make-believe and he couldn't deny the hope he felt that maybe she was the one he needed in his life to help him fight off his demons. He knew he shouldn't hope. Hope was dangerous. It had the ability to lift you up and crush you to dust. It was a fine line between glory and utter destruction and Jack didn't know if he could risk it. But in truth he already had without even realizing it.

She'd appeared in his life suddenly, just like the rainstorm currently beating against the windows of the diner. She was wild and free and a mess of gorgeous chaos beautifully out of place. She was one of the rare ones, so effortlessly herself, and she made him feel a little less lost and and a little more human.

Jack didn't know if he really believed in fate or destiny. He didn't know if it was all just coincidence. What he did know was that he was thankful for the raindrops. The hundreds of millions of raindrops that had somehow lead him to her.

 **A/N: My first Jackunzel fic. I hope you liked it, I certainly enjoyed writing it even though I'm not 100% happy with it. Reviews are free and I love them so drop me a line or ten. I love you, dear readers!**


End file.
